Page 89 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
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We spent the following morning puttering around the house—Caden catching up on some work while I dug in the garden, deadheading roses and checking the herb beds. Just after ten, we heard Sandy come through the front door.
“Grandma’s here!” Macy called from upstairs, and within seconds she was thundering down with her overnight bag, practically vibrating with excitement.
Sandy appeared in the kitchen with her usual warm smile and what I was sure was enough snacks for a cross-country trip waiting in her car—gotta make sure Macy doesn’t starve for that hour-long drive.
“Ready for an adventure, sweetheart?”
“I’ve been ready since yesterday!” Macy announced, giving us each quick hugs.
“Hope you guys have fun. Don’t miss me too much! I’ll be partying with ice cream and the A-team”—her favorite name for her cousins since both their names start with A.
“Have the time of your life,” I said as she turned toward her grandma, still bouncing on her heels.
After they left, the house settled into a different kind of quiet—not the tense silence we’d grown used to during our rough patch, but something expectant and peaceful.
“So,” Caden said, wrapping his arms around me from behind as I stood at the kitchen window, watching Sandy’s car disappear. “Beach day?”
“Beach day,” I agreed, leaning back against his chest. “But first, more coffee. And maybe those chocolate croissants you think I don’t know about.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with exaggerated innocence.
“Caden Barrett, let’s not pretend you don’t have croissants hidden away.”
He laughed and headed for the freezer. “Fine. But only because it’s a special occasion.”
The drive to Ipswich took just over forty minutes, windows down, our road trip playlist playing.
We found a spot near Crane Beach and spent the day doing exactly what we’d promised ourselves—being completely present. We ate overpriced lobster rolls at a picnic table overlooking the water, walked the length of the beach twice, and let our feet skim the cold surf along the sand.
“You know,” I said around three o’clock, looking up from my book, “this might be the most relaxed I’ve felt in months.”
“No schedules, no crisis calls, no one needing anything from us,” he agreed, settling beside me in the sand. “When did we stop doing this?”
“I think we both know,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“Yeah. We do.” He looked down at his feet as we walked.
“That wasn’t fair. We were having a good time,” I said quickly. “I know you’re trying, and it means the world to me.”
“No, it was fair. That it hurts my heart to know it was my fault doesn’t make it any less true. But Felicity, it’s moments like this that keep me grounded—and remind me of what I almost lost. I love you.”
He reached around me, hooking his arm over my shoulders and intertwining our sandy fingers. “I’ve missed this version of us.”
“Me too.”
We stayed until the late afternoon sun started slanting low across the water, then packed up and headed home. I dozed for the last twenty minutes of the drive, waking as he pulled into our driveway.
“Good nap?” Caden asked, his voice soft.
“Mmm.” I stretched, feeling pleasantly tired and sun-kissed. “I’m going to feel that sun tomorrow, but it was worth it.”
“Definitely. Want to grab showers and then maybe order dinner? I’m thinking Thai food and a movie night.”
“Perfect.” I started gathering our beach gear. “Though I call dibs on the shower first. I’ve got sand in places sand should never be.”
“Deal. I’ll bring the stuff in and check a few things while you get cleaned up.”
